


Hide and Seek

by the_genderman



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexual Steve Rogers, Blow Jobs, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Halloween Costumes, M/M, Pining, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Unrequited Crush, Waffle House, steve is a bad driver, three large men in a VW Bug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-22 07:50:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 12,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11962971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_genderman/pseuds/the_genderman
Summary: Sam's out looking for Bucky. Bucky doesn't want to come in, but he's surprisingly willing to keep talking to Sam while he's in hiding.Chapter 9 has an Explicit version and a Teen version. I wanted to make sure, since the rest of the fic is T-rated, that it can be read with or without the smut, depending on age or preference. ("Chapter 9E" is explicit, "Chapter 9T" is teen.)





	1. Chapter 1

Sam found himself suddenly wide awake in the dark motel room, a vague sense of ‘something’s not right’ tickling the back of his mind. Without sitting up, he reached cautiously for the drawer in the bedside table where he’d placed his gun before turning in for the night. He slid the drawer open as slowly and silently as it would go and reached in. His fingers felt around, finding the ubiquitous Gideon Bible, a ballpoint pen, a notepad, and no gun. He froze. 

“Yeah, that was the first place I looked,” came a voice from the bathroom.

Sam turned over and groped under his pillow for his knife.

“Got that too. What can I say? I’m the best at what I do.” The tone of voice was darkly sarcastic.

“What do you want?” Sam said, sitting up and considering the objects around him as potential improvised weapons. “No signs, no sightings, no nothing for six months after the Smithsonian cameras got you. A week ago, we got a report that someone who looks a hell of a lot like you was spotted in Flagstaff, Arizona of all places. Steve wanted to drop everything and jump in a quinjet and fly straight out here, but HYDRA waits for no one, so he sent me out instead. Four days in, nothing. I was starting to think you’d got a doppelganger in one of those die-hard hippie campers who sleeps in tents in the Grand Canyon despite the fact that this is the desert in late October and it’s damn cold at night. I’ve got a plane ticket back home tomorrow. Probably technically today. Why’d you show up now? What’s so special about Flagstaff?”

“I had to scout you out first, obviously. Make sure Steve really wasn’t with you,” Bucky laughed, emerging from the bathroom to sit down on the dresser next to the TV, casually twirling Sam’s knife, the blade glinting in the light seeping through the gap in the motel curtains. “What do I want? To make sure you get my message and take it back to Steve without continuing to sniff around for me.”

“And what’s that message?”

“Stop following me.”

“Yeah, somehow I don’t Steve’s gonna take that to heart,” Sam couldn’t help but laugh.

“Just tell him, ok?” Bucky said, standing up. He wrapped the knife in a washcloth and stuck it in his pocket. He strode silently over to the door, the only sound the ‘chk’ of the chainlock sliding open.

“Hey!” Sam called out, challenging. “You never answered my question: what’s so special about Flagstaff? And are you gonna give me my stuff back?”

Bucky turned, door open. “Your gun’s in your car, I kinda like this knife, and ask Steve about Flagstaff.” He slipped out into the night, pulling the door shut after him.

Sam flicked the wall lamp on and quickly checked his things. Bucky had taken his knife, Stark-brand official company-issued cellphone, most of the cash from his wallet (credit cards seemingly untouched, but Sam was going to call his bank as soon as he got back home, just in case), and the three slices of leftover pizza he had stashed in the mini-fridge for breakfast. He slipped his shoes on and went out to check his rental car. His gun was locked in its box in the trunk, keys in the lock, packed and pretty much ready to go into his luggage.

Sam shook his head a little, shivered at the desert night chill, and retreated back to his hotel room. Oh, you could bet he was going to ask Steve what was so special about Flagstaff.

\---------------------------------------

After reporting the loss of his Starkphone, agreeing to have a trace set on it while seriously doubting that the trace would actually lead anywhere useful, and calling his bank about his credit cards, Sam set out to find Steve.

Sam found Steve in one of the smaller conference rooms up on the Avengers’ floors, beyond where most Stark Tech employees were allowed to go (as a part-time Avenger, Sam had some privileges not afforded most of his coworkers), reading over some paperwork or other and absentmindedly turning his coffee mug around and around, a clear sign that he wasn’t happy with what he was reading. Sam knocked on the door, startling Steve, who jolted upright, causing the mug to skitter away, leaving a little trail of coffee splashes.

“You might want to consider switching to decaf,” Sam joked.

“It _was_ him?” Steve asked expectantly.

“Yeah, it was him alright. He stole my favorite knife and left a message. He wants us, but more specifically you, to stop looking for him.”

“I can’t do that, Sam,” Steve shook his head.

“I told him you’d say that,” Sam shrugged. “I’m just relaying the message.”

“Did you actually see him? Or did he just leave a note? I mean, on the Smithsonian tapes, he still looked kind of out of it. Six months of nothing and now this…” Steve trailed off, a little hesitation in his voice, like he couldn’t bring himself to ask what he really wanted to know. He shifted his feet slightly.

“Oh, I saw him alright. He broke into my motel room in the middle of the night to give me the message in person. Obviously I never met him before, but he didn’t seem like he was on autopilot or anything like that. He ate my pizza while I was asleep. We had a nice little conversation in which he made sure to let me know he’s got the upper hand,” Sam answered.

“What did you talk about? What did he say other than to stop looking for him?”

“I asked him why, after six months of nothing, he got spotted in Flagstaff of all places. He told me to ask you.”

Steve sat down hard, the chair creaking in complaint.

“When we were kids, Bucky would talk about how we were going to go to Arizona,” Steve began. “Bucky’s father knew more than a few men, fellow veterans, who went to Tucson because the air out there was supposed to be really good for the lungs. Bucky thought it would help my asthma, and then after I got better, we were going to go see the Grand Canyon. We eventually figured out that Tucson and the Grand Canyon were on opposite ends of the state, but we never stopped making plans to go out and see the Grand Canyon someday. Never stopped. Even during the war, he’d talk about how when we finally got out there, he was gonna see for himself if it was true that the squirrels were different on the two sides of the canyon.” Steve blinked and glanced away.

Sam looked away as well, focusing on an abstract painting on the wall, trying not to intrude on the moment he hadn’t meant to cause.

“Looks like Buck finally got out to the Grand Canyon after all,” Steve said. Sam heard a silent ‘without me’ at the end of the sentence. Steve was smiling, but his eyes were sad. 

“Yeah, looks like he has,” Sam said, flashing Steve a quick ‘it’s going to be ok’ smile. “Maybe he just has to remember a few things first. Probably wants to do it on his own so he knows that he _can_ before he comes back.”

“That’s probably true,” Steve admitted with a bob of his head. “I just wish he’d let me know he’s ok, send me a postcard or something to let me know he’s alive.”

“If I see him again, I’ll tell him.”


	2. Chapter 2

Sam didn’t think Bucky would let him find him again.

Although, technically, it was _Bucky_ who found _Sam_ a week later and left him a neat little gift-wrapped package on his kitchen table that had Sam sweeping his apartment, trying to figure out how he had gotten in and out without anyone the wiser. He’d have to find out what kind of security feeds Stark had on this building. Just because it wasn’t the Tower didn’t mean he wasn’t taking care of his employees. Cautiously, Sam sat down and stared at the package for a few minutes before finally picking it up.

It wasn’t large; a neat little box wrapped in newspaper (the Arizona Daily Sun, dated a week ago so no help there), about an inch thick and slightly larger than one of the nicer postcards you’d find at museum gift shops. He gave it a tentative shake. It made no noise. He picked the tape off the short edge and slid the wrapping off the box. Opening the box revealed a plain white motel washcloth, his purloined knife, his Starkphone (in need of a charge), and a folded note. Sam unfolded it and began to read.

__

_Felt bad about taking your knife. Thought you might want it back. Forgot to take the charger for this phone, so you can have it back, too. Also probably too easy to track me with it. We can’t have that._

Bucky hadn’t bothered to sign the note, but it was pretty obvious who it was from. Sam read it over a couple more times before crumpling it up and tossing it at his recycling bin. “Thanks, I think?” Sam said to no one in particular and got up to find his proprietary Starkphone charging cable.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam had to admit, Tony Stark _did_ throw a pretty good company Halloween party. Candy and games and gadgets to keep the kids occupied, enough alcohol to keep the adults from worrying about how much candy the kids were eating. It was a family event, so he invited his sister and her kids, further cementing his reputation as ‘best uncle ever.’ He even let them choose his costume, which was how he ended up dressed in what was essentially a penguin onesie, with a cup of fruit punch with peeled grape ‘eyeballs’ in it because his nephew Jody had gotten really excited about the ‘eyeball punch’ and then decided he didn’t like the eyeballs after all.

All in all, it was your average family-friendly company Halloween party, if said company was run by Tony Stark. Many things could be said about Tony Stark, but his security was pretty top-notch. So it came as quite a surprise to Sam when a metal hand, its grip unmistakable even under furry costume gloves, landed on his shoulder and its owner suggested that they find somewhere a little more private to talk. (For starters, how did he get past the metal detectors? Sam wondered.)

And to be fair, Bucky didn’t argue when Sam said they could have their little talk in the public-but-less-heavily-trafficked kitchen or nowhere.

“What the hell man, are you stalking me now? Come in here, dressed up like the Big Bad Wolf, mingling with people’s _kids_?” Sam asked as soon as they were out of earshot of the other guests, keeping his voice low and crossing his arms over his chest. He wasn’t going to stand for this kind of intimidation.

Bucky raised his hands in a gesture of conciliation. His voice was slightly muffled by the rubber wolf mask he was wearing. “First off, let’s set things straight. I never hurt kids. _Never_. All the brainwashing in the world couldn’t make me do that.” He a jabbed a finger into his palm, emphasizing his point. “Don’t plan on starting now, either. Secondly, I came to apologize to you about the Flagstaff thing. And thirdly, I’m not the Big Bad Wolf, I’m a werewolf: a man who got turned into a monster against his will.” He paused, then added, “Ok, it was also the cheapest costume I could find that actually hid my face and hands.”

Sam dipped his head. He wasn’t Steve, with his implicit, and frankly a little dangerous, trust in Bucky. He was understandably a little hesitant around the guy who had actively tried to kill him twice, and obliquely threatened him on top of that, but he shouldn’t let himself forget that it hadn’t been Bucky’s choice to be turned into the world’s deadliest assassin. If he wanted to come apologize, then maybe Sam should hear him out.

“Alright, I’m listening.” Sam uncrossed his arms, hoping to look less closed-off.

“I shouldn’t have threatened you. One, I really should have realized you wouldn’t respond well to being threatened, and two, I just shouldn’t have done it in the first place,” Bucky apologized. “But I’m still serious about telling Steve to stop looking for me; did you do that?”

“I told him,” Sam replied, gesturing with his cup of grapes. “I told him, and you want to know what he said? ‘I can’t do that, Sam.’” Sam mimicked Steve’s intonation. “What did you expect? This is Steve we’re talking about. And why do you not want him to find you? He just wants his friend back. If you need to talk to somebody, if you need help, we can arrange that. Just because you _can_ do it on your own doesn’t mean you have to. He wants to help.”

Bucky shook his head, rubber wolf muzzle flopping around with the force of his shake. “I can’t go back yet. And I can’t tell you why. All I can say right now is that I can’t be around him yet and he needs to understand that.”

“Could you at least send him a postcard to let him know you’re doing ok?” Sam asked, trying to casually stick his free hand into his pocket, forgetting that his pockets were hidden under his penguin onesie. “I should probably get back to mingling before anyone comes looking for me. 

“Yeah, sure,” Bucky agreed. He plucked the cup of grapes out of Sam’s hand, quickly lifted the mask, and tipped the fruit into his mouth. He settled the mask back into place, handed the empty cup back to Sam, and turned to leave.

Sam watched him go with a ‘what was that for?’ expression on his face. He dropped the empty cup into the trash and decided that he deserved a slightly stronger drink than fruit punch.


	4. Chapter 4

It wasn’t until January when Sam had his next encounter with Steve’s fugitive friend. New Year’s Day. Sam had been soundly asleep when his Starkphone rang. He wasn’t particularly inclined to answer the phone at three A.M. on New Year’s Day, but the only people who had this number were members of the Avengers and some of his fellow Stark employees, so it was probably an emergency. What level of emergency? He’d find that out when he answered.

Sam rubbed some of the sleep out of his eyes and hit ‘answer.’ “Hello?” he said, trying not to yawn into the phone.

“Happy New Year, I hope one of your resolutions was to try to convince Steve to stop looking for me. I only narrowly avoided you two last week, no thanks to you,” came an unfortunately familiar voice over the line.

“How’d you get this number?” Sam asked, suddenly awake.

“I stole this phone from you back in Arizona, remember?” Bucky said with a laugh. “How much did you have to drink last night?”

“Not enough to want to have this conversation with you again, especially not at three in the morning. What the hell timezone are you in? You’re Steve’s oldest friend, he wants to see you again, and you of all people should know that once he gets an idea in his head, he’s gonna see it all the way through. Did you at least send him that postcard I told you to?” Sam sat up too quickly, closing his eyes and trying to stop the room from spinning. All he wanted was a good sleep-in on his day off, not to play mediator between two super-soldiers who didn’t have even half a normal human’s worth of sense between them. 

“No,” Bucky said. Sam could hear the excuse in his tone.

“Well why not? You want something from Steve, you have to give him something to work with. If you need time, _tell_ him. Tell him _yourself_. Doesn’t have to be in person, I don’t know, break into his apartment and leave him a little present like you did with me.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Well why the hell not?” Sam said, his frustration growing.

A brief silence on the other end of the line. If not for the fact that his phone hadn’t beeped and hung up, Sam would have thought they’d gotten disconnected.

An exhalation of breath. “If you wanna talk about it, I’m in town. We could meet somewhere,” Bucky said, somewhat reluctantly.

Sam was pretty sure he was going to regret this, but instead he answered with “Ok, sure. Tell me where.”

\--------------------

Waffle House was not exactly where Sam would have thought Bucky would ask him to meet. Maybe a boarded up warehouse, one of those Russian delis where no one admits to being able to speak English, or maybe underneath a pier. Somewhere where he could look sufficiently intimidating. Not somewhere as innocuous as a Waffle House (if you could in fact use that word about a Waffle House). Bucky already had a booth claimed and waved Sam over. He was wearing a knit hat with a pom-pom on top. He had shed his heavy winter coat, showing a somewhat battered olive green jacket layered over a black turtleneck. He quickly shoved his gloved left hand back into his pocket. In his right hand he held a waffle that had been rolled up into a tube shape. He was dipping it into a puddle of maple-esque syrup on one of his plates.

“This better be worth it,” Sam grumbled quietly, “because it is 3:30 in the morning on New Year’s Day and I have a hangover and didn’t plan on talking to Grumpy Cat.”

Bucky nudged a big, greasy plate of hashbrowns and bacon in front of Sam. “You eat, I talk.”

Sam ate.

“So, uhm,” Bucky started, and trailed off almost immediately. He shifted, looking really uncomfortable. “You probably want to know why I’m avoiding Steve.”

“Yeah, that’s the reason I’m sitting in Waffle House at ass-o-clock A.M. I _would_ like to know why you’re refusing to talk to your purported B.F.F.”

“B.F.F.?”

“‘Best Friend Forever.’ You know, the whole ‘inseparable on schoolyard and battlefield’ thing.”

“Mm-hm. That exhibit left a few things out. Well, that’s not really fair,” Bucky amended. “I think Steve was the only one who I told. Some of the guys might have figured it out, but if they did, they never said anything…” 

Bucky trailed off again. Sam nodded in a way he hoped would convey encouragement rather than ‘I’m falling asleep.’

“You ever have a relationship that went sour and you just had to go no-contact for a while to sort things out?” Bucky asked.

“Wait, you two had a thing back in the ‘40’s or something?” Sam replied, unable to hide his surprise. “No offense, but are you sure that wasn’t some kind of false memory implant thing? Because Steve’s told me a _lot_ about you two, and he never mentioned anything like that.”

“It was pretty one-sided,” Bucky explained, eyes down. He swiped a piece of bacon from Sam’s plate, ate it, and continued. “I had a childhood crush on him, and I never grew out of it. I didn’t plan on telling him ever, because that wasn’t something you admitted to. And that was that. Simple enough, right? Nah, I had to go and fuck it up. I don’t even remember what we were celebrating anymore, but I had a little too much to drink. You know Steve can’t get drunk, so he just kept going, and because he kept going, I kept going, too. And pretty soon I was a little tipsier than was good for me. And I threw my arm around his shoulders and leaned in and tried to kiss him. He was a little startled, but he recovered quick enough and played it off as a joke. We all laughed it off and kept on drinking. Later that night, he pulled me aside and we had a little talk about the events of the evening. He told me he was ok with me being like I was, he didn’t even mind that I felt that way about him, but that he was sorry, he didn’t think he’d ever be able to feel that way about me. And that he hoped we could still be friends, because we had a good thing going, and he didn’t want to lose that.”

“Shit, man,” Sam said simply. He stared at the remainder of the hashbrowns. Bucky rolled up another waffle and started chewing on it. They sat in silence until the waitress stopped by and asked if they wanted more coffee. They both said yes, please. She poured their coffee and slid the check conspicuously towards Bucky. Sam got a sense that Bucky had possibly been here for a _long_ time and the waitress was getting a little tired of him. He made a mental note to tip her well.

Bucky stirred five packets of sugar into his coffee, sipped it slowly, and continued. “So you understand now why I can’t see Steve yet? I’m trying to get over him.”

“Do you want me to tell him you need some space?” Sam asked hesitantly.

“No, no,” Bucky said quickly, flailing the waffle around and splattering the tabletop with little syrup drips. “He can’t know I’m here. He’s gonna get all guilt-stricken and noble and offer me his spare bedroom and then try to stay out of my way, all the while looking like a kicked puppy. I can’t do that. When I’m ready, I’ll tell him that I’ve made my peace and he doesn’t have to worry about ‘tempting me’ or me being jealous of his girlfriend.”

“Steve doesn’t have a girlfriend,” Sam blurted out. He regretted it almost instantly.

“He doesn’t? Ok, so he’s not over Peggy yet _and_ he feels guilty about quote-unquote ‘letting’ me fall. We’re both fucked up and we don’t need to be around each other right now,” Bucky shook his head and shoved his right hand into his pocket, too.

“Is there anything you need me to do?” Sam asked slowly, hardly believing the words coming out of his mouth. “I can’t tell Steve to stop looking for you, but if you need anything from me, just call me. You’ve got my number.”

“You’d really do that for me? I didn’t think you liked me.” Bucky looked surprised and… grateful?

Sam shrugged. He wasn’t totally sure he wanted to make friends with Bucky—he still didn’t quite trust him—but a little part of him did want to help the guy. And it’s not like Sam didn’t know a thing or two about unrequited love. 

“If I help you, maybe you get over your thing about Steve faster, and can come out of hiding faster. He really does want to stay friends with you, and he’s my friend too, so I don’t like seeing him stressing out over you. He’s got enough on his plate with our current HYDRA problems without worrying about you, too,” Sam explained.

“Yeah, fair enough. You gonna eat the rest of those hashbrowns?” Bucky pointed his fork at the half-eaten potatoes in front of Sam.

“Yeah, I’m tired and hungover, ok? I’m eating slowly.” Sam hadn’t actually planned on finishing the hashbrowns. He ate them anyway. No need to get too pally too quickly.

“I just wanna be sure, you really did mean it when you said I could call you, right?” Bucky sounded skeptical but hopeful.

“Yeah, man. I meant what I said,” Sam said through a bite of hashbrown. He cleaned his plate, fished out some cash for a tip, and stood to take his leave. “Have a good rest of the night, I guess,” he added.

Bucky gave him a genuine smile and a thanks.


	5. Chapter 5

Sam spent a little more time than was probably actually necessary reading and rereading all the files and reports they had on Bucky, dutifully following each and every lead, even though he knew Bucky would most likely be long gone by the time he arrived. Sometimes he even thought that he felt a little sorry that they kept missing each other. Bucky called him every so often, and the guy wasn’t so bad once you actually got to know him. 

It was late March now, almost a whole year since the Winter Soldier had been unmasked and Bucky had been allowed to claw his way back into the world. Sam glanced at the clock when his phone rang, the screen reading ‘unknown number.’ He was reasonably certain no telemarketers or even scammers called this late, so it had to be Bucky. He was still a little irritated that Bucky never seemed to call at normal hours, but he gave him the benefit of the doubt. Sam had been a bit of an insomniac, too, after leaving the Army, and he hadn’t had nearly as traumatic an exit as Bucky had had. Sam had had people there for him, family and friends, to try to help soften the blow of losing Riley.

So Sam answered his phone. He would be there for Bucky.

“Hey, sorry for calling you so late, but I just got off work. Odd hours, I know. But I, ah, I needed to talk,” Bucky said, not giving Sam time to say more than a tired ‘hello?’ before he launched into the call. “I understand if you can’t, but I kinda want to talk in person, if possible. Any chance you’d be free?”

“Sure, where are you?” Sam asked.

“I can’t tell you where I am right now, but I can give you a few options of where to meet me, if that’s ok.”

“Ok, give me the options.”

“Let’s see, Odessa,” Bucky began. (Texas? Sam thought. He’s in Texas now?) “Ukraine, not Texas,” Bucky amended. (Sam suppressed a cough. _Ukraine_? He wants me to meet him in Ukraine?) “Uh, Chisinau, Moldova; Budapest, Hungary; Krakow, Poland; or Timişoara, Romania. Which of those sounds best to you?”

“I’m gonna be honest with you, none of those sound best. I’m in New York, remember? Part-time Avenger, full-time Stark employee.”

“Oh.” Bucky sounded disappointed.

“But,” Sam added, feeling a little guilty. The guy trusted him, was reaching out to him. And the Avengers could afford to send him on a few more wild goose chases. He’d been on enough already, what was one more? “If you can wait, in the morning, I can say I got some intel and get on a plane and come meet you wherever you’d feel most comfortable. Those cities are all far enough apart that you’re gonna need some time to get there, too.”

“Really? Yeah, I can wait. I didn’t actually expect you to be able to jet over here right now. Great. Thanks. How does Budapest sound? I was there once during the war, always meant to get back some day,” Bucky said. Sam could hear a tinge of excitement coloring his voice.

“Really. But, uh, how am I supposed to know where in Budapest to find you?” Sam asked. “You’ve got my number, but unless you’re tracking me somehow, you don’t know where I am at any given moment. Would you be able to give me a number to call you at when I arrive?”

Bucky hesitated. “Ok. I’ve got a burner phone I can spare. But I’m not turning it on until I get to Budapest, and then I’m destroying it as soon as we’re done. I can’t have you or Steve or Stark or anyone tracking me.”

“Yeah, I get it.”

“Good. You got a pen and paper ready?”

\------------------

Bucky was already seated on the patio of the little café he had chosen as their rendezvous spot. He had a cup of coffee and a bowl of something that looked like fat spaghetti noodles made out of ground turkey and topped with whipped cream. Sam’s face must have shown his feelings as he sat down because Bucky immediately offered him a spoonful. 

“It’s gesztenyepüré. Chestnut puree, it’s good, I swear.”

“Thanks, I’ll pass,” Sam said and sat down.

“Alright then, but you don’t know what you’re missing out on,” Bucky shrugged. “How about some rétes instead? It’s like a strudel, fruit-filled.”

Sam let Bucky place his order for him and waited patiently for him to broach the topic of conversation that brought them both to Budapest.

“How much leave did you get? How long are you going to be in town?” Bucky asked, trying to sound casual.

“Two or three days, enough time to talk to my ‘source’ and check out some promising locations before heading home empty-handed as usual,” Sam replied casually.

“Oh, that’s good,” Bucky said distractedly. “Uh, I was wondering, maybe, if you could, I dunno, just sight-see with me for a couple days?”

“Sight-see with you?” Sam asked, surprised.

“Or, if not sight-see, then just kinda hang out with me? It’s rapidly approaching one year since Steve… saved me, and I’m not doing as well as I’d like to be doing right now. I need someone to talk to, and as much as I’d love to ask Steve to be there for me—I know he’d do it in a heartbeat—I’m still not quite ready for that. My neighbors don’t know who I am, I’m just the quiet American expat at the top of the building. I don’t bother them, they don’t bother me. I work nights. Most of the time I don’t even see them. I can’t talk to them about this. You’re the only other person I could think of who I trust right now.”

Sam’s stomach did a little unbidden flip at that. Bucky _trusted_ him. The waiter arrived with his rétes and coffee and he tried to sound like any other tourist making plans with a friend. 

“I’m not super familiar with Budapest. Did you have any specific places in mind? If not, we could always look for an art museum. Those are always good,” Sam offered.

“You an artist, too?” Bucky asked. “I tried to get into it, Steve would drag me along to his classes, but I was never any good at it. But I like museums,” he quickly added.

“I did a bit of photography when I got back from Afghanistan, to try to find a place for myself back in the civilian world, but I wasn’t that good at it. I decided to stick to just watching birds, not trying to take their portraits.”

“Birds, huh? We got mostly pigeons and sparrows back in Brooklyn. Me and Steve, when we were kids, we’d climb up on the roof sometimes, just because we could. We found a pigeon nest one time, and man, baby pigeons are ugly little bastards.”

Sam grinned and shook his head. “Not gonna argue with you, there. They really are.”

\-----------------

Sam returned to his hotel that night tired out from playing his role of a tourist and strangely happy. Bucky seemed a lot more comfortable around him now, actually laughing, and making the kinds of jokes Sam assumed he used to make around Steve back in the day. And, even more surprising, Sam thought he might enjoy spending more time with Bucky in the future, too. 


	6. Chapter 6

A month later and the Avengers were holding a little party to celebrate finally rooting out HYDRA from their last European stronghold and getting Loki’s staff back from them. Sam hadn’t been particularly involved with that part of Avengering, but it was something well worth celebrating. And Steve, for a change, wasn’t worrying about HYDRA _or_ Bucky. Oh, he asked about how Sam was doing on that front, but he didn’t have the level of nervous energy he’d been running on for the past year, like a giant Chihuahua, threatening to vibrate out of his skin. 

“I’m very happy chasing cold leads on our missing persons case,” Sam said, keeping his tone light, following Steve up to the observation deck level where they could relax and watch the rest of the party below them. “Avenging is your world. Your world is crazy.”

“Be it ever so humble,” Steve replied, looking out over the room.

“You find a place in Brooklyn yet?” Sam asked, gently steering the conversation away from Bucky. Steve may not be worrying now, but Sam didn’t want to keep pushing that envelope.

“I don’t think I can _afford_ a place in Brooklyn,” Steve shrugged.

“Well, home is home, you know?” Sam smiled back at him.

“Most of the time, I’ll agree with you on that, but sometimes I’ll be sitting in my room here in the Tower, just staring out over the city, thinking about how much it’s changed. Wondering if I really belong here, or if I ought to just pull up my roots and start over somewhere new,” Steve mused.

“Where would you go if not Brooklyn?” Sam asked, nudging the conversation into hypotheticals. “Would you stay here in the Tower or pack up and move? Maybe go back to Washington?”

“Not Washington.” Steve shook his head firmly. “Without S.H.I.E.L.D., the only connection I have left in Washington is Peggy. And I know this is gonna sound really selfish of me, but I don’t know if I can handle being around her right now. She’s gotten a lot worse in the past year, and it hurts to see her like that. She barely recognizes me anymore.”

“That’s rough. She really meant a lot to you, didn’t she? You think you two would have gotten married if you hadn’t gone down with the Valkyrie?” Sam asked gently.

Steve inhaled deeply, held the breath, and exhaled slowly. “I really don’t know anymore. I probably would have, but I also feel like maybe I wouldn’t have, because I was always a little afraid that she’d just be disappointed in me.”

“Disappointed in you? Why? You’re Captain America, and she helped found S.H.I.E.L.D. Everything I read about both of you, you two honestly sounded perfect for each other.”

“History has a tendency to paint us as a star-crossed romance, and maybe we were. I loved her, but I wasn’t in love with her. I think she loved me in a deeper, _truer_ , way than I loved her. And she was the closest I’ve ever gotten to that ‘true love’ feeling that everyone likes to talk about. I would have done anything for Peggy, but I wasn’t in love with her, and I felt guilty about that.” Steve crossed his arms over the railing and leaned over, staring down over the party below them.

“I know you’ve got to keep up appearances for PR and everything, and you don’t have to answer me if you’re not comfortable, but are you gay?” Sam asked quietly.

Steve shook his head. “Nah. The thought did occur to me, though. My old neighborhood was kind of a queer hotspot, so I wasn’t completely unaware of my other ‘options.’ I just never really felt inclined to date anyone, women or men. Bucky would set me up with girls and we’d double-date, but they never went anywhere. If my date thought I was too skinny or whatever, all the better for me. Then it wasn’t _me_ letting _her_ down. If she dumped me at the start because I was too small, at least she wasn’t dumping me a month into it because I was broken.”

“Steve, you’re not broken.” Sam put a hand on Steve’s arm.

“Thanks, but I am,” Steve replied with a slight shake of his head.

“No, really,” Sam insisted. “I’m guessing that when they unfroze you, nobody bothered to brief you on all the different orientation options you’ve got nowadays? From what you said, I think you could be asexual.”

“Like an amoeba?” Steve laughed.

“No, I’m serious. Asexual. It’s where you’re not really attracted to anyone,” Sam explained. He tucked this little bit of information away; maybe it could help Bucky if he knew that it wasn’t personal, that Steve just wasn’t interested in _anyone_ like that.

“You’re not joking with me? No, you’re not, are you.”

“If you don’t believe me, google it. Google knows everything, man. Read up on it, and then you can decide if that’s the right word for you or not,” Sam said, giving Steve a friendly punch to the shoulder.


	7. Chapter 7

When Bucky called again, Sam felt surprisingly excited to hear his voice. 

“So you’re a full-time Avenger now, huh?” Bucky asked.

“I literally just got the news this morning, how the hell did you find out already?” Sam asked.

“I have my sources.” Sam could hear Bucky’s grin through the phone.

“You secretly got Steve on speed-dial or something?” Sam teased.

Silence over the phone.

“Ah. Sorry. Still not good to mention him, huh?” Sam added.

“Not quite there,” Bucky replied. “But I’m doing better. And, uh, I’m actually kind of almost ‘in town’ if you had some time and wanted to, I dunno, hang out and do friend things.”

“We’re friends now?” Sam’s voice was skeptical, but his heart gave a little leap.

“If that’s ok with you,” Bucky added hastily. “I haven’t had a friend in a while, and you’ve actually answered the phone when I’ve called, so…”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine, it’s good. Friends,” Sam said, words coming out in a rush. “When you said ‘in town’ does that mean you’re actually in New York or just… not in Europe?”

“I was in New York, had a couple things I had to deal with, but I’m actually in Newark right now.”

“New Jersey? Really?” Sam scoffed.

“Yeah, yeah. I know. _Jersey_.” Bucky’s eye-roll was practically audible through the phone. “But Steve would never think to look for me in Jersey, so it seemed as safe as anywhere. Wanna meet for a burger real quick? Celebrate your new job title?”

“Name the time and place, and I’ll be there,” Sam said, desperately hoping he wouldn’t regret it.

\--------------

Sam hung up the phone feeling a little bit like a teenager with a crush again, and a little bit like a traitor for falling for Steve’s best friend. It was bad enough that he’d been having secret phone calls and a couple secret meetings, but for him to want to keep up that contact? To want _more_ contact? All while not telling Steve? Sheer treason. Just call me Benedict Arnold, Sam thought. 

And what did he know about Bucky, really? He knew what he’d read in the history books, read at the Smithsonian, what Steve had told him about the Bucky from before. The Winter Soldier had tried to kill him. The Bucky from after was shy, nervous, almost afraid of himself. But he had little flashes of the personality Steve had described, the sassy, impertinent, ladies’ man (for whatever that was worth), quick with a compliment or an insult, whichever was more appropriate. That little voice at the back of his mind called ‘common sense’ was telling him to take some time, actually get to know the guy before trying to make a move on him. Figure out if there’s any chance he’s interested back. He’s healing, he’s been through trauma. Don’t push him. Just go out and be there for him, be the friend he needs.

\------------------------

Bucky sat in the far corner table, chewing on a straw and bouncing his leg, glancing cautiously around the restaurant. He’d extended the invitation, it was too late to take it back now. Sure, he could bolt before Sam arrived, but no matter what his fight-or-flight response was telling him, he was _not_ going to run away. Sam was a bright spot in his life right now. Sam wasn’t afraid of him. Sam didn’t back down from a confrontation. Sam had been willing to help him, even after what he’d done, even after what he’d done to _him_ personally. Sam hadn’t argued when he’d accidentally let the f-word (no, not that one, the other one, ‘friend’) slip out. Just a casual oh, we’re friends now? That’s cool. Steve was probably the only other person he could think of like that.

Oh. Bucky stopped chewing, leg stilled. Oh. Of course. He swore to himself. If he hadn’t been so preoccupied with avoiding Steve and the reasons why he was avoiding Steve, he probably would have recognized it earlier. He’d caught _feelings_ for Sam Wilson. Well, this new development might just help him get over his thing about Steve. Shift his feelings onto another guy who probably doesn’t reciprocate. Eh, nothing new. The door opened and Sam stepped into the restaurant. Bucky straightened up and stuck the mangled straw back into his drink cup.

“Hey,” Bucky managed to say, lifting one hand about an inch off the table to give a little wave.

“Hey yourself,” Sam said, sliding into the chair opposite him. “You ordered already?”

“Nah, just a drink. I was thirsty.”

“Just thirsty?” Sam raised an eyebrow at the ex-straw. 

“Well, I had to do _something_ while waiting. You took your time getting here,” Bucky teased, grinning and hoping it was, in fact, not the absolute wrong thing to do.

“Yeah, you try getting from Manhattan to Newark any quicker,” Sam said without heat.

“You coulda flown.”

“Hm, yeah. Sure. Very low-key, wearing my wingpack and goggles in here to grab a bite, people would be all over us.” Sam rolled his eyes and grinned back at Bucky.

The waiter arrived and they immediately began to study their menus intently. 

Once the waiter had taken their orders and headed back to the kitchen, Bucky spoke again. “So, I’ve got good news and possibly bad news.”

“Oh yeah?” Sam said encouragingly. “Good news first, you deserve good news.”

“Ok, the good news,” Bucky said, trying not to blush at Sam’s compliment. “I think I might be getting over Steve.”

“Really? So you thinking about coming back in?” Sam asked.

“ _Might_ ,” Bucky emphasized. “It’s a slow process, so not yet.”

“Is that the bad news? That it’s slow?”

“Nah. Bad news is that I think I’m falling for someone else.”

“How is that bad news? Does he not want to move to New York with you?”

“He’s good with New York, but I haven’t told him that I like him yet,” Bucky said, dropping his eyes.

“Well, if you want any kind of chance, you gotta tell him,” Sam replied. “You remember how to do that? I heard you were really smooth back in the day. I bet it’s all still in there.”

“I’m working on that.” Bucky paused as the waiter brought Sam’s drink and a couple extra straws.

Sam sipped his drink “My advice?” he said. “Just ask him. If he says no, then you can start moving on before you get too invested. If he says yes, then you two can start looking at apartments.com and find a place in Brooklyn. Or wherever else you might want to settle down. Brooklyn’s changed a lot since the 40’s.”

Bucky didn’t reply.

“Or is it an immigration problem? I could put you in contact with Pepper, she’s got great lawyers. She has to, with Tony,” Sam mused.

“Itsyou,” Bucky blurted out quickly.

“Me?” Sam’s head shot up. 

He stared at Bucky. Bucky stared back. The waiter arrived with their burgers.

“You,” Bucky repeated and shoved a handful of fries in his mouth.

Sam continued staring. Bucky’s brain began repeating “you fucked up” as he debated how rude it would be to bolt and saddle Sam with the check after dropping little gem that on him.

“Wow, I didn’t actually think you’d reciprocate,” Sam said quietly.

If Bucky’s mouth hadn’t been stuffed full of potato, his jaw probably would have dropped. He chewed faster and swallowed audibly, washing the fries down with a big gulp of soda. “Did I hear you right?” he finally managed to ask.

Sam nodded and took a bite of his burger.

“Why do you like _me_?” Bucky said skeptically.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Sam shrugged. “When you’re not trying to kill me or otherwise being a jerk, you’re a good guy. And what, were you just planning on doing another ‘quietly pining’ deal over me like you did with Steve?”

“If you hadn’t been all nice and complimentary and ‘just tell him’ (for ‘him,’ read: ‘you’), I might have,” Bucky said, lifting the top bun off his burger and pulling the pickles off.

“If you’re not ready to come back to New York, how were you thinking about doing this?” Sam asked. “A long-distance relationship? Because I’m an Avenger now, I have to stay based in New York, or wherever our new headquarters ends up being if Tony doesn’t want us to stay in the Tower. I can’t hop on a plane and move out to wherever you’re living right now.”

“Yeah, yeah, I understand,” Bucky said quickly. “Long-distance is good. Phone calls, texts, maybe Snapchat if I can get hold of a phone that can handle it.”

“I suppose if we’re gonna start texting and Snapchatting, I should give you my personal number,” Sam said with a chuckle. “No _way_ I’m sexting on a company phone.”

“Sexting? What’s that? I am intrigued. Tell me more.”

“After I finish my lunch,” Sam grinned and picked up his burger.

“Rude,” Bucky laughed and bit into his own burger.

Sam just shrugged.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky is blue texts, Sam is gray/white texts. I meant to have it the other way, but i got confused by the coding + to/from, so this is how it is now.

wyd?

I *was* sleeping

Time zones and all, you know

Is this any way to treat your loving boyfriend as your six month anniversary approaches?

Yep. Six months does not an anniversary make

I guess that means you don’t want me to come visit?

I never said that

Good. You got an invite to Stark junior’s Halloween party again this year? He had a wonderful liquor cabinet

You do realize I can’t bring you as an official plus-one? You’re still an international fugitive

Let me handle that. You get yourself an invite and I’ll find my way in

Steve’s gonna be there this year. You ready for that?

I don’t plan on interacting with him yet, but I should be able to handle being in the same room. I’ll be in a mask and really all I want to do is steal some of that Patrón I had last year

Tequila? Really?

Look, I actually got kind of a buzz off of it and it’s too expensive to buy on my own. I’m going back for more. You don’t have to have any

I’m planning on staying relatively sober so I don’t say or do anything to put you at risk

Aww, that’s so sweet of you

Also in case we decide to, you know, do anything afterwards, hint hint

Good point


	9. Chapter 9E

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remember, this is the explicit version of Chapter 9. If you want the PG-13 version, that would be the next chapter.

Sam closed the door of the hotel room behind himself and Bucky. The party had been pretty fun, but he was ready to take things in a slightly different direction. Bucky had found Tony’s secret top-shelf margarita mix cabinet and convinced one of the local robots to mix a few up for him. Sam had accepted _one_ , remembering his promise to stay mostly sober. Bucky, however, had not given himself such a restriction. Sam could tell that he was maybe a little buzzed, but nowhere near as intoxicated as he pretended to be. He smiled, thinking back to the little charade they had played.

Bucky had dressed as Zorro, full black costume, cape, gloves, mask, hat, and bolo tie. Sam had secretly coordinated with the Western theme, appearing in a cowboy get-up complete with lasso and chaps. He tipped his hat at the ladies and posed for pictures with guests for the PR folk. So when a ‘drunken’ Zorro tipped back a margarita and pointed at Sam, yelled out “Lone Ranger! I love you!” and insisted on taking him for a wobbly dance around the room to the Monster Mash, Sam just shrugged at the security and let it happen, all while secretly loving it.

So as soon as they got back to Bucky’s hotel, Sam took hold of his bolo tie and pulled him into the room. As soon as the door was shut and locked, he grabbed Bucky’s face and, stopping barely an inch from his lips, asked in a low voice “Do you want to do this? Because I do.”

“And what exactly does ‘this’ entail?” Bucky asked with a lecherous grin before closing the remaining distance and kissing Sam, knocking his hat off with the brim of his own.

“What are you comfortable with?”

“Uhhh…”

“What are you _not_ comfortable with?” Sam clarified.

“Uhhh…” Bucky said again.

“What’s wrong, all the blood left your brain and went to your dick?” Sam asked with a laugh, grinding his hips against Bucky. “How about this? If I start to do something you don’t like, stop me and we’ll figure out something better.”

“Yeah, I can work with that,” Bucky answered and moved in for another kiss, taking his hat off and flinging it across the room with one hand, his other coming to rest on the buckle of Sam’s belt. When they parted, Bucky spoke again. “I had an idea. I don’t know if I’m ready to go all the way, but how about I blow you? You don’t have to reciprocate.”

“But if I want to I can, right?”

“Of course you can, I just didn’t want to pressure you.”

“Look, your pants are very tight, and let me just say that I’ve been appreciating that all evening. You’re not pressuring me.”

“Alright then,” Bucky laughed, unclipping his cape and stripping out of his costume. “But I get to do you first, ok?”

“Fine,” Sam huffed, unable to keep himself from smiling. He unbuckled his belt and pushed his pants and underwear down without slipping the belt out of the loops. He flopped back onto the bed and slipped a hand up under his shirt while waiting for Bucky to finish undressing.

Bucky stalked purposefully across the short distance to the bed and knelt down. He had used his bolo tie to pull his hair back, Sam noted. Bucky grabbed Sam’s knees, pulling him closer to the edge of the bed and making his shirt ride up, exposing his belly. More gently, he shouldered between Sam’s legs and pressed his cheek to the hollow of his thigh. Even more gently, Bucky lifted his left hand and very lightly stroked the cool metal fingertips over Sam’s balls, drawing a high whine from him. Sam reached a hand down to run his fingers through Bucky’s hair.

“May I?” Sam asked.

“As long as you don’t push, I’m ok,” Bucky said, cutting his sentence off by taking Sam’s dick into his mouth, slowly sliding down the shaft.

“You’ve done this before,” Sam moaned.

Bucky gave a noncommittal, but very pleasant, hum as he bobbed.

Sam’s breathing became more rapid, and he panted out a warning. “Bu—Bucky, ohh. If you need to pull off, do it now. I’m gonna—”

Bucky pulled back, but stopped at the glans, teasing it with the tip of his tongue until Sam stuttered and came.

Bucky licked his lips and looked very pleased with himself. He stood up and extended a hand to Sam, pulling him up from the bed. He kissed him again, unbuttoning Sam’s shirt and slipping it off his shoulders, hands lingering on Sam’s biceps, before coming up for air. Bucky sat down on the edge of the bed, leaning back a little, bracing himself on his hands and spreading his legs wide.

Sam knelt down and placed his hands on Bucky’s thighs, just appreciating them for a moment before ducking his head to lick a trail up the underside of Bucky’s penis. He ran his tongue over and around the head, tasting the precome before taking it into his mouth. Bucky squeezed his eyes shut, threw back his head, and moaned not-quite-words.

Sam pulled off just long enough to ask “You like that?” before redoubling his efforts, setting Bucky’s chest heaving. 

“Ungh. Ohgod,” Bucky panted. “Ahh, oh you feel so good. Oh Steve…”

Hearing Steve’s name snapped Sam out of his moment. He pulled back abruptly, screwing his eyes shut as Bucky came. He wiped his face, glancing around to see if there was a tissue box or if he’d have to go to the bathroom to clean up.

Bucky chuckled. “Oh, you like _that_ , do you?”

Sam glared up at him.

Bucky’s expression changed rapidly from amusement to dismay. “I did something wrong. What did I do?” he asked quickly, reaching out to Sam.

“You called me Steve.”

“I did not—I did? Did I really? Fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. Sam, I’m sorry, I swear I didn’t mean to.” Bucky looked genuinely rueful.

“You didn’t mean to, but you still said it. You’re not over him yet. I think we need to take a step back.” Sam stood up and walked to the bathroom to wash his face.

Bucky followed him, apologizing. “Sammy, please. It was an accident. I like you, I want you. Please don’t break up with me over this. You’ve been such a bright spot for me over this past year, please don’t leave me.”

Sam turned, towel in hands. “I’m not leaving you, Bucky. I only said we need to take a step back, rethink a few things, maybe. You called me Steve. You’re not as over him as you thought you were. And I like you too, a lot, but I don’t want to do this if you’re still hung up on Steve. I don’t want to be always second-guessing things or wondering if I’m good enough or if I’m always gonna be second fiddle to Steve. Steve’s a great guy, I’d do anything for him; I don’t want to start resenting him for getting between us. You understand?”

Bucky hung his head. “Yeah. I get it. I don’t like it, but I get it. But we’re still friends, right?”

“Of course,” Sam said, touching Bucky’s flesh arm. “We’re still friends, and maybe we can try again for more at some point in the future, but you gotta be _really_ sure you’re not gonna ‘Steve’ me again, ok?”

Bucky glanced up at him, head still lowered. “Yeah, ok.”

“Come on, let’s get dressed again. Maybe I’ll get us a pizza and we can watch a bad made-for-TV cable movie and laugh at it as friends, start trying to put this behind us.”

Bucky gave him a shy but hopeful smile.


	10. Chapter 9T

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the "fade to black" PG-13 T-rated version of chapter 9.

Sam closed the door of the hotel room behind himself and Bucky. The party had been pretty fun, but he was ready to take things in a slightly different direction. Bucky had found Tony’s secret top-shelf margarita mix cabinet and convinced one of the local robots to mix a few up for him. Sam had accepted _one_ , remembering his promise to stay mostly sober. Bucky, however, had not given himself such a restriction. Sam could tell that he was maybe a little buzzed, but nowhere near as intoxicated as he pretended to be. He smiled, thinking back to the little charade they had played.

Bucky had dressed as Zorro, full black costume, cape, gloves, mask, hat, and bolo tie. Sam had secretly coordinated with the Western theme, appearing in a cowboy get-up complete with lasso and chaps. He tipped his hat at the ladies and posed for pictures with guests for the PR folk. So when a ‘drunken’ Zorro tipped back a margarita and pointed at Sam, yelled out “Lone Ranger! I love you!” and insisted on taking him for a wobbly dance around the room to the Monster Mash, Sam just shrugged at the security and let it happen, all while secretly loving it.

So as soon as they got back to Bucky’s hotel, Sam took hold of his bolo tie and pulled him into the room. As soon as the door was shut and locked, he grabbed Bucky’s face and, stopping barely an inch from his lips, asked in a low voice “Do you want to do this? Because I do.”

“And what exactly does ‘this’ entail?” Bucky asked with a lecherous grin before closing the remaining distance and kissing Sam, knocking his hat off with the brim of his own.

“What are you comfortable with?”

“Uhhh…”

“What are you not comfortable with?” Sam clarified.

“Uhhh…” Bucky said again.

“How about this? If I start to do something you don’t like, stop me and we’ll figure out something better,” Sam suggested.

“Yeah, I can work with that,” Bucky answered and moved in for another kiss, taking his hat off and flinging it across the room with one hand, his other coming to rest on the buckle of Sam’s belt. When they parted, Bucky spoke again. “I had an idea. How about…” he leaned in and whispered in Sam’s ear. Sam’s smile grew.

“I like that idea. Can I reciprocate?”

“Of course you can, I just didn’t want to pressure you.”

“Look, your pants are very tight, and let me just say that I’ve been appreciating that all evening. You’re not pressuring me.”

“Alright then,” Bucky laughed, unclipping his cape and stripping out of his costume. “But I get to go first, ok?”

“Fine,” Sam huffed, unable to keep himself from smiling. He unbuckled his belt and pushed his pants and underwear down without slipping the belt out of the loops. He flopped back onto the bed and waited for Bucky to finish undressing.

Bucky stalked purposefully across the short distance to the bed and climbed on.

\---------

“Good, huh?” Bucky purred.

Sam glared up at him.

Bucky’s expression changed rapidly from contentedness to dismay. “I did something wrong. What did I do?” he asked quickly, reaching out to Sam.

“You called me Steve.”

“I did not—I did? Did I really? Fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. Sam, I’m sorry, I swear I didn’t mean to.” Bucky looked genuinely rueful.

“You didn’t mean to, but you still said it. You’re not over him yet. I think we need to take a step back.” Sam rolled over and climbed out of bed. He stooped to pick up his clothes from the floor.

Bucky followed him, apologizing. “Sammy, please. It was an accident. I like _you_ , I want you. Please don’t break up with me over this. You’ve been such a bright spot for me over this past year, please don’t leave me.”

Sam turned back to him, underwear in hands. “I’m not leaving you, Bucky. I only said we need to take a step back, rethink a few things, maybe. You called me Steve. You’re not as over him as you thought you were. And I like you too, a lot, but I don’t want to do this if you’re still hung up on him. I don’t want to be always second-guessing things or wondering if I’m good enough or if I’m always gonna be second fiddle to Steve. Steve’s a great guy, I’d do anything for him; I don’t want to start resenting him for getting between us. You understand?”

Bucky hung his head. “Yeah. I get it. I don’t like it, but I get it. But we’re still friends, right?”

“Of course,” Sam said, touching Bucky’s flesh arm. “We’re still friends, and maybe we can try again for more at some point in the future, but you gotta be _really_ sure you’re not gonna ‘Steve’ me again, ok?”

Bucky glanced up at him, head still lowered. “Yeah, ok.”

“Come on, let’s get dressed again. Maybe I’ll get us a pizza and we can watch a bad made-for-TV cable movie and laugh at it as friends, start trying to put this behind us.”

Bucky gave him a shy but hopeful smile.


	11. Chapter 10

Sam returned to his room at the Avengers Compound and flopped face-first down onto his bed. He was tired. Lagos had been an absolute disaster. The only bright spot was that he could tell Bucky that he never had to worry about Rumlow ever again, and that was small consolation indeed. His phone rang. He barely glanced at the screen, swiping ‘answer’ and holding it up to his ear. He turned his head slightly so his voice wouldn’t be quite so muffled by his bedspread.

“Hello?” Sam said into the phone, trying not to sound as exhausted as he felt.

“Hey, Sammy,” a familiar voice began. Sam couldn’t help but smile. He and Bucky hadn’t quite gotten back together, but they were certainly trying.

“Hey yourself,” Sam replied.

“I saw about Lagos on the news. Are you ok?” Bucky asked.

“Physically? Yes. Mentally, no. Rumlow was such a dickbag. Couldn’t just keep his personal vendetta personal, no he had to bring fucking C4 into it,” Sam groaned and sat up, laying his free arm across his lap.

“Rumlow was there?” Bucky asked quickly.

“ _Was_ ,” Sam emphasized. “He decided to go suicide bomber on Steve. Steve’s ok, don’t worry, I’m sure you saw him on the news coverage. Wanda did what she could, but even with her abilities, it can’t be easy trying to contain the explosive force of that much C4. And Steve’s trying to make sure Wanda understands that it wasn’t her fault. We’re _physically_ ok, but we’re a mess right now, all of us.”

“You’re probably super busy with the fallout from that, so I understand if you can’t get away, but if you wanted to get a motel somewhere, let me take care of you…” Bucky trailed off.

“Thanks, and I wish I could say yes, just name the place, but I can’t go anywhere. We’re not _officially_ on house arrest, but it’s been highly suggested that we keep a low profile for a few days.”

“Should I come to you?” Bucky asked.

“Not a good idea,” Sam said, shaking his head even though he knew Bucky couldn’t see him doing it. “The cable news networks are digging up everything they can about everyone involved in the Lagos disaster, us _and_ Rumlow. And with him comes HYDRA, and with HYDRA comes the Winter Soldier. It probably wouldn’t hurt for you to keep a low profile until this blows over, too.”

Bucky swore. “That asshole is never gonna stop making my life miserable, is he? Even dead he’s still ruining my life.”

“Once the dust settles, we’ll pick things back up from where we left off. Don’t worry,” Sam said reassuringly.

\-------------

The next time Sam saw Bucky was in Bucharest. 

The next time he got to interact with Bucky was the next day in Berlin, after the dubious psychiatrist turned him back into the Winter Soldier and Bucky threw him into a wall. 

The next time he got to actually speak to Bucky was in an abandoned machine shop in the outskirts of the city. Steve had been on lookout duty while Sam babysat Bucky’s still-unconscious form, left arm carefully pinned in a hydraulic press. Sam paced the room, wondering what was supposed to happen next. He hadn’t told Steve he had been talking to and occasionally seeing Bucky (his apartment in Bucharest had come as a genuine surprise, Bucky had been very tight-lipped about where he was actually living), and he _definitely_ hadn’t told Steve about that one awkward Halloween when he and Bucky had attempted to consummate their budding relationship. How much would Bucky remember immediately upon waking up? Sam had promised to call Steve in as soon as Bucky started to stir, but he was a little bit afraid of what Bucky might say.

A pained groan caught Sam’s attention and he pivoted. Steve hadn’t reacted yet, but his hearing was pretty good. Bucky groaned again, trying to dazedly move his left arm. Sam called Steve over.

\-------------

Steve had drawn the short straw and had been tasked with finding them a car which could get them to the Leipzig/Halle Airport without drawing undue attention. As soon as he had left the building, Bucky turned to Sam, a slight frown on his face.

“‘Just like that we’re supposed to be cool?’ I thought I meant a little more than that to you, Sam,” Bucky said.

“Did you forget? Steve doesn’t _know_ about us,” Sam explained. “I’m playing two sides here. As far as Steve knows, I’ve got no reason to be friendly with you, especially after choke-slamming me into a wall? He saw you do that, so understandably I’d be a little skeptical.”

“Well, as long as that’s the only reason,” Bucky said, tipping his head a little to the side in a gesture of ‘I agree with you but I don’t like it.’ “But you’ve been saying we’ll have to tell him eventually.”

“I know, but maybe not right now while we’re _all_ fugitives from the law?”

A car horn honked close below them and they both jumped. Bucky ran to the window and looked down. Sam heard him mutter “Steve, you idiot,” then Bucky was back at his side with a laugh and a “C’mon. You _have_ to see what kinda car Steve found.”


	12. Chapter 11

The first words out of Sam’s mouth as he saw the car Steve had picked were “Oh hell no.”

“What? It’s low profile,” Steve said, trying to justify the old-style VW Bug he had chosen. 

Sam noted that Steve hadn’t bothered to try to get out of the car to come collect them. Sam wasn’t sure Steve _could_ get back out. Maybe that's why they were stuck with this car.

“It’s tiny,” Sam stated bluntly.

“We’ll fit,” Steve insisted.

“You got a shoehorn in there pal?” Bucky teased.

“Very funny. Please get in the car,” Steve said.

“Fine, I get front,” Bucky said, moving towards the car. Sam caught his arm.

“You sure you’re ready for that?” Sam asked, trying to keep his voice down.

“Come on Sam, cut Bucky some slack. He’s back to himself, he’s not gonna try to kill me again,” Steve said, beginning to grumble a little. “Now can we please all get in the car? We’re losing time here.”

Bucky gave Sam an exaggerated frown, opened the passenger side door and very ostentatiously flipped the front seat down and climbed into the back of the Bug. Sam flipped the seat back up and got in. As soon as he got the door closed again, Steve put the car into motion.

“Now that we’re all here together,” Steve began, using his ‘lecture voice,’ “I know we’re all professionals here. And I know you two might not exactly be friends, but you’re gonna be able to work together once we get to Siberia, right? I don’t have to tell either of you how much is at stake here.”

“Don’t worry, Steve. We’ll be fine,” Sam reassured him.

Steve glanced at Bucky in the rear-view mirror.

“Yeah, as long as doctor-guy ain’t still got that book, I’ll be fine.”

“If he does, I’ll deck him myself,” Sam said quickly.

“That’s more like it,” Steve smiled. “See? You two are gonna be friends in no time.”

Sam and Bucky made meaningful eye-contact in the mirror.

\---------------

Steve finished stowing their gear and climbed back behind the wheel of the VW. Bucky gave him a punch to the shoulder.

“You get her number for when we get back from Siberia?” Bucky joked.

Starting the car again and pulling back onto the road, Steve shook his head. “It’s not like that, Buck. That’s Sharon; she’s Peggy’s niece. And even if that didn’t make it a little weird, I don’t really want to date her. I kissed her because she wanted it, and what if I don’t make it back from Siberia? I wanted to give her something. She’s the best at what she does, but I’m not interested in her like that. They got a word for that now, didja know? What was it again, Sam?”

“Asexual,” Sam filled in.

“Like an amoeba?” Bucky laughed.

“I said the same thing when Sam told me the word for it, actually,” Steve laughed back. “There’s words now for a lot more things that just kind of got ignored or swept under the rug back in the day. You know, Bucky, if you came back to New York, things are pretty good now. You wouldn’t have to hide anymore… Ah.” He cut himself off, glancing over at Sam. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed you’d be comfortable with me talking about… that. Well, if nothing else, you can clearly see I didn’t grow out of putting my foot in my mouth.”

“It’s ok, Steve,” Bucky said, cutting him off. “Sam actually knows already.”

“He does? You do?” Steve turned to look at Sam.

“Eyes on the road, Steve,” Sam said quickly. “And yeah, I knew. And don’t talk about not making it back. We know what we’re getting into, we’ve got a great team. We’ll make it back.”

“Steve’s kinda got a point, Sam,” Bucky said, leaning forward, elbows on both Sam’s and Steve’s seats. “You never met these guys. They’re tough. It’s gonna take all of _us_ , working together perfectly, to deal with all of _them_ working together—”

“I’m trying to be an optimist here, man,” Sam interrupted.

“—I’m gonna tell him.”

“You’re gonna what?” Sam said, simultaneously with Steve’s “Tell me what?”

“What, do you not want to? I thought you were all ready to let him know?” Bucky said with a frown.

“I said after this settles down a bit,” Sam said, turning around in his seat.

“Tell me _what_?” Steve asked again.

“I mean, if you really want to wait, that’s ok,” Bucky said, conceding a little. 

“Is _no one_ gonna tell me?” Steve asked, turning to look at Sam and then over his shoulder at Bucky.

“Eyes on the road, Steve! Don’t get us killed before we even make it to Leipzig, Jesus!” Sam yelled. “Will you at least focus on driving if we tell you?”

“Maybe?” Steve admitted.

“Well, at least you’re honest,” Sam shrugged. “Well, here it is: Bucky and I are dating. We have been for about a year now.”

“Really?” Steve said. “A _year_? How’d that happen? Uh, congratulations, I think? How’d you manage to keep everything hidden?”

“Snapchat,” Bucky grinned. “And you know, I’m not pining unhealthily over you anymore. Sam’s been real good for me. Don’t blame him for not telling you, it was me who wanted to keep things under wraps.”

“I’m not blaming him; Sam, I don’t blame you. I’m just surprised, and honestly, really impressed you kept this secret for so long. And you both deserve to be happy with each other, I mean it.” Steve broke into a genuine smile, and he glanced over to Sam and then back to Bucky.

“Steve! Eyes on the road!” Sam and Bucky yelled in unison.


	13. Chapter 12

“We gotta go,” Bucky insisted, glancing over at Steve from behind the shipping container he was using as cover. “That guy’s probably in Siberia by now.”

“We need to draw out the flyers… I’ll take Vision. You get to the jet,” Steve said, watching the aerial battle, scanning for an opening.

“No, you get to the jet! Both of you! The rest of us aren't getting out of here!” Sam yelled as he dodged Rhodey again.

“As much as I hate to admit it, if we're gonna win this one, some of us might have to lose it,” Clint added, drawing another arrow and taking aim.

“Alright Sam, what’s the plan?” Steve said, with some reluctance. He knew Sam was right, but he didn’t like leaving anyone behind. Sam was right. Right now, the most important thing was getting to Siberia and stopping the other Winter Soldiers.

“We need a diversion, something big!” Sam replied.

“I got something big!” Scott piped up. “But I can't hold it very long. On my signal, run like hell, and if I tear myself in half, don't come back for me.”

“He’s gonna tear himself in half?” Bucky asked, concerned, to no one in particular.

“You sure about this, Scott?” Steve asked.

“Yeah, I do it all the time. I mean, once. In a lab. I passed out,” Scott explained.

“Sam, where did you find this guy again?” Bucky asked.

“I’ll tell you later,” Sam replied. “Right now I’m a little busy being part of your diversion.”

“No, we’re doing this together,” Bucky said. “I don’t want to leave you behind to get arrested like I was.”

“No, you and Steve are gonna go and deal with those other Winter Soldiers. Get Wanda if you can. Of all of us, you three have the best chance of getting out alive. Let’s face it. I’m really good at what I do, but I’m not enhanced, and neither are Clint or Scott.”

“Look, Buck. Sam’s right,” Steve pressed. “You don’t want to hear it, I don’t want to hear it, but he’s right. And when we get back, when we _prove_ to everyone else we were right about this, we’re gonna come back and do right by everyone who got left behind.”

“Yeah, so you’d better be waiting for me when I get out, ok?” Sam said to Bucky.

“If I get out of there in one piece, I’ll be waiting for you. Don’t worry,” Bucky answered as he and Steve made their break for the quinjet.

\----------------

“When you go back, tell Sam I’m sorry, ok? Please? I know I should tell him myself, but I’m just so tired. I need to go back under until someone can fix my head so I can actually start to heal,” Bucky said quietly as the technicians ran the final preparations on the cryo-chamber.

“You’re sure this is the best thing for you?” Steve asked, trying to keep his voice level.

“It’s the best thing for everyone.”

\-----------------

This time felt different. It was like waking up after a long nap, not the feeling of weak limbs and being dragged up through wet sand that he had long ago learned to associate with coming out of cryo. He blinked a few times, focusing his eyes. Steve was standing in front of the cryo chamber, just waiting, and he apparently had a beard now, so that was something.

“Welcome back, pal,” Steve said, smiling.

“Did they get everything out?” Bucky asked, his words a lot clearer than he expected them to be immediately after defrosting.

“Short answer, yep. Longer answer, ask T’Challa for the details.”

“Oh, thank God,” Bucky sighed.

“I’ve got some more good news for you,” Steve continued.

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“There’s someone here to see you,” Steve said, stepping aside. Sam stood up from his chair, where he had been hidden behind Steve.

“Sam? You waited for me?” Bucky said, breaking into a huge grin.

“Of course I waited for you,” Sam said, crossing the floor and wrapping Bucky in a bear-hug. “Now come on, let’s go home.”


End file.
